


finding refuge is not enough

by ErraticIpseity



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Martin's tape recorder poetry, Transcript Format, edited but unbeta'd, not exactly unrequited Tim/Martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-19
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:55:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23180557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErraticIpseity/pseuds/ErraticIpseity
Summary: Tapes and memories in document storage. Tim gets a hug because he needs one. Set S3 during the time Jon is kidnapped.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Tim Stoker
Comments: 31
Kudos: 64





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Working title: sad about tim stoker hours are 24/7 babes
> 
>  **Warning** for a moderate amount of swearing. That’s the only reason this is rated T, the rest of the content is very mild.
> 
> Much of this was inspired by the patreon fluff episode “Epiphany” which healed my whole heart. If you only want fluff and no angst, just scroll to the transcript part and ignore the rest! 
> 
> Sorry for any grammatical errors/americanisms. If anything bothers you feel free to point it out, but don’t feel obligated to. 
> 
> The title is from "Memories" by P!ATD because my music taste has not changed since 2012
> 
> UPDATE 3/17/20: Chapter 2 not be a "real" chapter but an alternate fluffier ending which I've decided to include. I'll post that later today when I have time

“Fuck off!”

Martin jumps at the shout and subsequent clatter from deep within document storage. That sounded very much like Tim. He just opened the door to go in, but is now frozen on the threshold, reconsidering. He knows he should probably leave and come back later. But the shout didn’t seem to be directed at him. And apparently, he can’t resist the chance to take care of someone who doesn’t want him to, because he walks in and starts peering down the aisles. After a few tries, he does indeed find Tim, sitting on the floor, back to a shelf. He looks wrung out, and thinner than he did before his impromptu holiday, previously well-fitted clothes a little baggy. There’s a tape recorder several feet away, open with the tape next to it.

“Hey,” Martin says tentatively. “Are you alright?”

“Oh yeah, I’m fantastic,” Tim says in that flat monotone he’s adopted recently. His mouth turns up at the corners in a way that looks brittle and painful.

“That’s why you’re swearing and throwing tape recorders in document storage?”

“The thing showed up in my pocket while I was talking to myself. Myself! Not you!” He jabs a finger at the offending machine.

“Ugh, creepy.”

“Yeah.”

The conversation dies after that. Martin shifts from foot to foot. Tim curls forward, hugging his knees and resting his forehead against them.

The quiet drags on until Martin finally asks, “Did you want me to go, or…?”

“I don’t care,” Tim says to his knees.

Martin settles on the floor across the aisle from him. “Sorry things have been so weird lately.”

“Not _your_ fault.”

“Don’t—” Martin takes a breath, forces the frustration out of his voice. This isn’t the time. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m here. If you need anything.”

Tim chuckles bitterly, raising his head. “What are you going to do, make tea and tell me to get some rest?”

Martin shrugs. “You look like you could use both.”

“Well, no thanks. I’m fine. I’m getting more work done than ever. Funny, now I can’t even be fired for slacking off.”

“Okay, but…make sure you’re taking care of yourself too.”

“Oh,” he smiles again, somehow even sharper than before, rolls his eyes. “Okay. I think I’m getting it now.”

“Getting what?”

“Jon’s missing so you’re coddling me instead.” His words are pointed, aiming to strike where it hurts.

“That’s not—"

“Well, I’m not Jon, so stop it.” He stands and paces away, back turned to Martin.

“That’s not fair! Why do you constantly assume the worst of everyone?”

“Maybe if someone would take my side for once I wouldn’t have to!” He whirls around, switching so quickly from resigned to agitated it makes Martin feel dizzy.

“Tim. I’m on your side.”

“I can’t know that! I tried to talk with Sasha after she d—after she wasn’t. A lot. Even when she kept pulling away, I kept trying to talk. I didn’t even remember us being close, I just had all these memories where it felt like we should have been. And now you’re trying to get close to me when I seem to remember you not giving a damn about me before. It was always Jon this, Jon that, Jon needs me, let’s follow Jon into the spooky death tunnels. So, what gives? Do I know you? Or do I just think I do.”

He’s breathing hard at the end of his tirade, and unshed tears give his eyes a feverish sheen. Martin gawps at him, frantically trying to come up with worthwhile response, until he remembers the tape.

“I can help with that actually. Um, hang on a minute.”

He hurries to the back of the room, to the old cot, still there for anyone who needs a reprieve from the waking world. Lying on his back, he fishes around underneath until he finds a familiar rip in the mattress. Tim peers at him from the stacks, arms crossed, looking baffled. The tape is still there in its hiding place. Martin pops it out of its case, brings it over to the recorder, puts it in the slot, then presses play.

[CLICK]

**MARTIN**

[CLEARS THROAT]

[dramatic] Liminal Spaces by M. K. Blackwood

[POETIC PAUSE]

Liminal spaces are not for living

And yet here in one I reside

I act out the motions of life

But I question myself all the while

When I breathe here, do I really breathe?

When I speak here, does it make a sound?

If we were to meet in a gentle embrace

In this notional place, would it count?

If I love you only in spaces of waiting

Do I condemn us to never collide?

I send up flares ‘til my form catches—

[DOOR CRASHES OPEN]

[MARTIN YELPS]

[annoyed, embarrassed] Tim! How many times!?

**TIM**

Whoops! Sorry. Anyway, have you seen this?

**MARTIN**

You burst in here to show me a meme?

**TIM**

Just look!

**MARTIN**

Heh. Okay yes, funny.

[MOMENTARY SILENCE]

Was that all? I’m, um…busy. With things? Work things.

**TIM**

Also, me and Sasha are going to that sandwich place by Chelsea College for lunch. You’re cordially invited.

**MARTIN**

Oh! I’d love to. But I can’t.

**TIM**

[sympathetic] Is it the worms?

**MARTIN**

No! Well…maybe a little. It’s fine. I have a lot to do here anyway.

**TIM**

I promise I’ll protect you from any worms that dare assault us.

[conspiratorial] I’m actually certified in worm self-defence.

[SOUNDS OF A WORM SELF-DEFENSE DEMONSTRATION]

[MARTIN LAUGHS WARMLY]

**MARTIN**

Thanks, but I really can’t today. I’m sorry.

**TIM**

We’ll bring something back then. Egg and cheese sandwich with tomato sauce on the side?

**MARTIN**

You memorized my order?

**TIM**

Martin. You wound me. I would never forget something so important.

**MARTIN**

Heh. Well, okay. Egg and cheese sounds great.

**TIM**

Wicked. Have fun with _work_ , then.

[TIM CLICKS HIS TONGUE IN A WAY THAT IMPLIES FINGER GUNS OR PERHAPS A CHEEKY WINK]

See you later.

**MARTIN**

Later.

[DOOR CLOSES]

[MARTIN SIGHS]

[fondly exasperated, under breath] In the meantime, maybe you could learn how to knock.

[normal volume] Right. Okay. Let’s try this again.

[dramatic] Liminal Spaces by M. K. Blackwood.

[CLICK]

Martin shuts off the machine before it can embarrass him any further. His face feels like it’s on fire. Tim exhales wetly, expression inscrutable. He takes the recorder from Martin. When he ejects the tape, he removes it delicately, like he’s handling something precious. The recorder slips from his fingers, clattering on the hardwood. All the tension from before gradually diffused as the magnetic tape unspooled their memories of a different time.

“I don’t know what made me hide that one, I sort of felt like I had to make sure some part of me was left behind in here, I guess?” Martin rambles, like if he says enough, he can cover up what Tim heard on the tape. “And like Jon said, the tapes don’t change, and since you’re on there too you know that it’s—oh.”

When Tim’s first tear falls, he swipes a hand across his face and stares at the wetness on it blankly. His rapid blinking is ineffective against the tears and his sobs sound more like coughs as he tries and fails to suppress them.

Martin carefully takes the tape from Tim and sets it on the shelf behind him. Then he opens his arms expectantly. Tim hugs him fiercely. He’s the perfect height to rest his head on Martin’s shoulder, and he does.

“It’s okay,” Martin murmurs.

“It’s not,” Tim chokes out.

Martin sighs. “Alright, maybe not. But you don’t have to push everyone away. I miss you.”

Tim leans back to look at him, gaze searching.

“Can I kiss you?” He asks in nearly a whisper.

“Um…” Martin says eloquently.

Tim is beautiful, even tear-streaked and hollow-eyed. And he was always nice to Martin, back then. He was warm and kind and funny. At a different time, under different circumstances, Martin might have said yes. Now, there’s a bleak desperation in Tim’s eyes that Martin recognizes. It’s a look that says he’s liable to do anything right now, as long as it has the potential to hurt someone. Martin is not going to take advantage of that. But he doesn’t know how to make this better.

He must have waited too long to say anything, because the moment breaks, and Tim starts to pull away, muttering, “Sorry, sorry, forget it.”

“Wait,” Martin says, catching Tim’s arm. “Don’t be… _I’m_ sorry.”

Tim slumps against his chest, and Martin holds him.

“I’m not sure either of us is in a good place for something else,” Martin says. “But I really, really miss being your friend.”

Martin feels Tim exhale sharply against his neck with what might be amusement.

“Of course you do,” he says, flat and sarcastic. “People always say I’m an excellent friend.”

At least it’s sort of a joke. Martin thinks he hears glimmer of the man he’d heard on tape moments earlier. He hopes he’s not just imagining it.

Eventually, Tim extricates himself from the embrace, clapping Martin firmly on the shoulder. “Sorry to cut this short. Places to be. Creepy bosses to avoid.”

He sniffs, swipes his hands over his cheeks, and straightens out his hair and clothes with a practiced air.

“Okay,” Martin says. “If you need anything else...”

“I know where to find you. Trapped in the same fucked up institute as the rest of us.”

And he’s gone. If he stealthily pocketed the tape on his way out, Martin doesn’t mention it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those interested, here is the full poem.  
> Disclaimer: I am not a poet so idk what I’m doing
> 
> Liminal Spaces  
> M. K. Blackwood
> 
> Liminal spaces are not for living  
> And yet here in one I reside  
> I act out the motions of life  
> But I question myself all the while
> 
> When I breathe here, do I really breathe?  
> When I speak here, does it make a sound?  
> If we were to meet in a gentle embrace  
> In this notional place, would it count?
> 
> If I love you only in spaces of waiting  
> Do I condemn us to never collide?  
> I send up flares ‘til my form catches fire  
> The burning suggests I’m alive
> 
> Perhaps all my life will be liminal space  
> Perhaps all my love is truly misplaced  
> Perhaps if you answered  
> My gestures of faith  
> I could enter the real world  
> And live there with you
> 
> **End Notes:**
> 
> I wrote this fic while listening to my S3 Tim playlist (which also doubles as my Shakespearian tragedy vibes playlist) found here [a plague o’ both your houses!](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/3O8SBs9901CsAXGmPh37Sh?si=m2c-hrmWSOS_Uli92q9iYg)
> 
> This fic started as just a lil thing to loosen up some mean writer’s block, but I ended up expanding it a lot and really enjoyed writing it!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed it too :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternate slightly less sad ending! Brought to you by the LTAMKI (Let Tim and Martin Kiss Initiative).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I’m late! Real life responsibilities came up and I did some extra editing. There are some things I’m not super sure about with it, but I need to stop tinkering and leave it be. Enjoy!

Martin shuts off the machine before it can embarrass him any further. His face feels like it’s on fire. Tim exhales wetly, and ducks his head, scrubbing a hand over his cheeks. Once he’s collected himself, he takes the recorder from Martin. He ejects the tape and removes it delicately, like he’s handling something precious. The recorder slips from his fingers, clattering on the hardwood. All the tension from before gradually diffused as the magnetic tape unspooled their memories of a different time.

“I don’t know what made me hide that one, I sort of felt like I had to make sure some part of me was left behind in here, I guess?” Martin rambles, like if he says enough, he can cover up what Tim heard on the tape. “And like Jon said, the tapes don’t change, and since you’re on there too you know that it’s—oh.”

He falls silent and still as Tim reaches over his shoulder. Tim sets the tape on the shelf behind Martin with a tenderness nearing reverence. He pauses there with his arm resting on Martin’s shoulder. They’re close enough to breathe each other’s air. Tim smells like spearmint and sweat and dry shampoo and Martin’s breath catches in his throat.

“Can I kiss you?” Tim asks in nearly a whisper.

“Um…” Martin says eloquently.

Tim was always nice to Martin, back then. He was warm and kind and funny. And he is beautiful, even hollow-eyed and exhausted. At a different time, under different circumstances, Martin might have said yes. Now, there’s a bleak desperation in his eyes that Martin recognizes. It’s a look that says he’s liable to do anything right now, as long as it has the potential to hurt someone. He’s not sure what will ease it and what will make it worse.

Martin must have waited too long, because the moment breaks and Tim starts to pull away, muttering, “Sorry, sorry, forget it.”

“Wait,” Martin says, catching Tim and pulling him into a hug. “Don’t be… _I’m_ sorry.”

Tim slumps, leaning his head into Martin’s shoulder, hugging back fiercely.

“I’m not sure either of us is in a good place for something else,” Martin says. “But I really, really miss being your friend.”

Tim leans back to look at him. “Well, you know what they say. What’s a kiss between friends?"

His tone is still flat and sarcastic, but there’s a spark of amusement underneath that makes him sound almost like the man Martin heard on tape moments earlier.

Martin can’t help but smile at that. “Pretty sure that’s not a saying.”

“Can we make it one?” Tim asks.

“Yeah, okay.”

Martin knows this will probably hurt later. That is generally his experience with this sort of thing. But their faces are mere inches apart, he wants to, and it’s so easy to just—

And he’s lost in the sensation of the kiss. When Tim parts his lips slightly Martin follows his lead. Tim tastes of tears and spearmint. There are no tongues or teeth, just the warm press of their mouths, and the firm weight of Tim’s chest against his. Tim traces a hand up Martin’s jaw and through his hair. It sends a rush of tingles down his spine and he shivers. Then Tim sighs, pulls away, and tucks himself against Martin’s chest again, burying his face in the crook of his neck.

“Huh,” Martin says, rather breathless. “I guess I should show more guys my poetry.”

Tim doesn’t laugh out loud, but Martin feels him exhale sharply against his neck.

Eventually, Tim extricates himself from the embrace, clapping Martin firmly on the shoulder. “Sorry to cut this short. Places to be. Creepy bosses to avoid.”

He swipes his hands over his cheeks once more and straightens out his hair and clothes with a practiced air.

“Okay,” Martin says. “If you need anything else...”

“I know where to find you. Trapped in the same fucked up institute as the rest of us.”

And he’s gone. If he stealthily pocketed the tape on his way out, Martin doesn’t mention it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Picture this: me, lying in bed several hours after posting the main fic, unable to sleep and feeling guilty that I didn’t let them have one nice thing. So there you have it! One nice thing.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Hang in there y'all <3


End file.
